


Tangents (Crossing Path)

by ikontrash



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Broken Heart, I put a bit crack idk why, Junbobficsparty2019, M/M, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikontrash/pseuds/ikontrash
Summary: Meet with someone you've been missed for so long supposed to be a happy occasion. But in the wrong place, in the wrong time, with the wrong person added to the equation just ruined everything.or Junhoe meets Jiwon with a girl after a tiring day.





	Tangents (Crossing Path)

**Author's Note:**

> First uploaded fic, please don't be too hard to me.

It’s a really tiring day for Junhoe, feeling like he’s about to die through each step he takes down the road to his apartment. He missed the bus and now he has to walk for another 15 minutes to get home. He swears someday he’ll resign from that hellish company. The night is still early, his wristwatch shows it’s 7, but his body is reaching the limit already. Eating two pieces of bread for lunch is honestly the worst thing he did today, confirmed by how hungry he is now.

 

When he halts for a while to gather his leftover energy, his eyes catch a familiar board of a cafe, a place he used to visit during college time. It’s been a really long time since he eats there, mostly because he's intentionally avoiding it. Junhoe stares at the place for quite long, making scenarios inside his head. He needs a proper meal, maybe rice or noodle, some meat served with hot soup would be nice too. And kimchi, and- okay stop, he’s drooling now. Basically, any decent meal would do, but all that cafe has is desserts and drinks, and they are pretty much far from the proper kind of meal he had in his head.

 

He looks around, sighing when he sees nothing changed about this street. There’s no other restaurant near this place. Junhoe looks conflicted.  _Okay, let’s just walk home and order later, you can do this._ He rejects the other option, afraid that it would make him stuffed for a while but he’ll be hungry again in midnight. Hungry Junhoe is impulsive, a dangerous threat for his dieting program so shakes his head. Big no.

 

However, when Junhoe blinks later, he found himself sitting inside the cafe. A hot Americano served in front of him along with chiffon cake.  _Two_  chiffon cakes.  _God_ , Junhoe is such a weak person. He shoves the cake exasperatedly to his mouth, annoyed by how good it tasted he can’t even stay mad at his poor decision to come here.

 

Junhoe is enjoying his first cake when his eyes wandering to the view outside the place.  _Good thing I stayed,_  Junhoe justified himself when he notices the rain starts to drizzle outside, drenching the road. He could still make it home actually, though he has no umbrella with him since it’s not really far from his place. But he swallows the guilty feeling inside. He’s warm and comfortable in here. Junhoe promises himself he wouldn’t eat anything after this and go straight to sleep.

 

The serenity of his mind breaks when he hears a ruckus near him. He irritatedly takes a gander, catching sight of two persons, probably a couple. One person whose back is against him keeps saying sorry to the partner in front of him, repeating the words like an annoying parrot while his hands making a panicked gesture.  _Oh_ , seems like he spilled a drink. And  _apparently_ , the drinks stained the dress the girl is wearing.  _What a fucking dumbass_ , Junhoe scoffs and holds his laugh.

 

The girl calls for the waitress and asks for a napkin.  _Oh my god, imagine doing that in your date, embarrassing_. Junhoe couldn’t help but entertain himself with their misery. Well, he’s not a bad guy, it just he’s physically tired now and he needs entertainment. And really, the man is looking so stupid from behind it feels like a free comedy.

 

“I’m sorry. Oh my god, I really am.” The guy says, and now it ticks Junhoe off. He didn’t aware of it first, but that person sounds familiar. _Really, really familiar_. Junhoe chews his food slowly, trying to recall which one of his friend has that kind of raspy and low voice.

 

“It’s okay. It’s water, it would dry, Jiwon.”

 

Oh, that poor guy’s name is Jiwon.

 

Where did he hear that name? That name isn’t uncommon, but he feels like he often harks it. Junhoe sips his coffee when his brain suddenly freezes and he chokes at his drink.

 

That guy is Jiwon.  _Jiwon_.

 

Junhoe’s blood turns cold, lungs refuse to inhale air. He only startles when the hot coffee flows over his thigh and he yells a little loud from his stupor. Junhoe quickly calls for the waitress. He just did the same thing with the guy he claimed stupid.

 

He berates himself while wiping the liquid tainted his pants. Maybe it’s fate he dressed in all black today, for the unexpected occasion like now. It must be a fate too why all of his pants are crumpled today and this one is the only decent left to wear. God is indeed so thoughtful, huh?

 

Things are flooding his train of thought in a mannerless way while his hands busy draining his thigh from the liquid. There’s no possible way it's  _Jiwon_ , his mind firmly states. There’s so many Jiwon in Korea, right? It could be Park Jiwon, or Cha Jiwon, or another Kim Jiwon who happened to have the same name with his  _Kim Jiwon_ , with similar voice and posture, with the same clumsiness when he’s panicked, he could probably be someone else, right? Junhoe clutches on the napkin he holds as he questioning himself.

 

It feels heavy to raise his head to steal another glance.

 

And maybe it’s a fate too because Jiwon is currently staring at him.

 

Junhoe feels his skin stiffened like they’re coated in cement that gradually turning solid. His throat declines the oxygen to enter as Jiwon locked his eyes with him. It’s him. It’s Jiwon. His Jiwon.

 

Jiwon is there, flabbergasted when his eyes greet Junhoe. _Oh my god_ , he still has that silly expression when he's shocked, eyes widened and jaw slacked open. His hair is curly now? Ahh, Junhoe really wants to shout about how ugly it seems. How many times had he told him he looks the best with straight black hair? Where’s the piercing he had on his right brow? Since when did he take it off? Why did he dressed so neat? Is he on a date-

 

Oh. _Oh._

_Of course, he’s on a date, what else it might be?_

 

Junhoe diverts his eyes to the girl who is occupied with her phone. She’s pretty, Junhoe admits after he has a better view of her. Her brown hair falls perfectly on her shoulder. Her bangs framing her face in a good way. Junhoe barely acknowledges someone else’s beauty, but his mind automatically thinking about how ethereal that woman is the moment he laid his eyes to her.

 

“Junhoe…”

 

Is that the wind calling for his name?

 

“You’re Junhoe, right?”

 

The wind sounds so much like  _Jiwon_.

 

“Junhoe, hey.”

 

Oh, apparently it’s not the wind Junhoe expected it was. It came from  _Jiwon_ , from the fucking man who has the nerve to smile in front of him, eyes formed into a crescent. He smiles like Junhoe is his old friend, not someone he left in broken-hearted state years ago.

 

In all places, on all occasion, why do they meet here, in the cafe of their first date? In the cafe that holds hundreds of their memories, place that Junhoe hated and loved so much? Fate is not only laughing at him but also humiliating him in his vulnerable state.

 

“Do you remember me? I’m Jiwon.”

 

Of course, Junhoe remembers, how could he forget? You are Jiwon, the man Junhoe respected since he was a freshman. You are Jiwon, the sunshine for your surrounding, the senior everyone cherished, the captain of volleyball club Junhoe joined in his college days. You are Jiwon, the man who dated Junhoe for two years, taught him how to love, how it felt to be loved. You are Jiwon, who after all these ups and downs you’ve been through with Junhoe, chose to leave him alone to pursue your dream.

 

You are Jiwon, who never come back even after a thousand night until all tears Junhoe shed because he missed you dried on his cheek. You are Jiwon, who one-sidedly cut the string you had with him, left him devastated, walking alone in the abyss of regret, of love, of hate, of the mixture of them all.

 

“I do.” Junhoe’s voice hoarse, swallowing the lumps on his throat and holding the tears threatening to escape his eyes. “I do remember you.”

 

“Ahh, it’s been so long. When was the last time we meet? 4? 5 years ago?” Jiwon’s tone light and happy. Junhoe dislikes how sincere it sounded.

 

_5 year, 3 months, 21 days._

Junhoe is not the kind of person who remembers the date. Or counting times. But Jiwon made him waiting in agony, setting a mental calendar in his brain.

 

“I forget, hahaha.” Junhoe settles with lies, forcing a laugh. He couldn’t possibly tell Jiwon he still computes the days.

 

“Maaan..” Jiwon laughs from his seat. “You look so-” He suddenly turns to the woman, muttering something like _A minute, babe_. “Different.” Jiwon continues.

 

_Babe._

_Babe_ , huh? Sounds  _special_ . Sounds very intimate,  _romantic_. Sounds like the how Jiwon used to address him. Junhoe’s skin slithered in anger and he wants to explode. Wants to slap Jiwon for all these years, for all the time he spent believing that one day Jiwon would be back to Korea and find him, sewing the broken rope and continue their unsolved love tale. He’s back, eventually. But seeing how unbothered he is with his date, Jiwon might not want to continue their story.

 

And what’s different about Junhoe? He’s still handsome, though he might look tired now, Junhoe sure he still amazingly breathtaking. He gained weight, he’s more muscular, but he’s still Junhoe. His hairstyle never changed, unless for one dumb event where he dyed it blonde during his attempt of moving on, but overall he’s the same. Junhoe convinced he doesn’t look that different from the last time they saw each other.

 

“You too…” Junhoe’s voice is low. He curls a weary smile. “You changed so much.”

 

Jiwon is about to say something when the girl tugs his hand. “Jiwon, my mom called. I should go home.”

 

“Oh, sure babe, let’s go home.” Jiwon turns around and calls for the bills. Junhoe watches them both engrossed in conversation. His heart being squeezed hard, mind processing whatever the fuck happening in front of him.

 

_Good thing I stayed my ass. I should’ve never stepped into this place._

When they stand up, Jiwon’s hand intertwined with the girl. He’s not only rubbing salt to Junhoe’s wound, but also cutting it deeper with an unseen knife.

 

“Oh hey, I should go. It’s nice to see you here, Junhoe.” Jiwon says as they walk past by him.

 

 _Where are you going? Who is she? When did you get back to Korea? Why did you never contact me? Are we really over?_ There’s so much tangled enigmas dancing on Junhoe’s mind. A college boy Junhoe would’ve pulled Jiwon and screamed, punching Jiwon and crying, but an adult Junhoe desperately tries not to appear affected by his presence. He hums instead. “Yeah, nice to see you too,  _senior_.”

 

Junhoe draws a line. He never called Jiwon as a senior. He always called him by name, sometimes by  _babe_ , many times both. Sadly, Jiwon doesn’t notice. He only flashes a smile and goes straight with his date outside. Junhoe couldn’t help but observes them until they lost in sight, in the light rain and dark night.

 

“Excuse me, can I please take this home?” Junhoe lost his appetite but he’s not gonna lose this untouched cake.

 

It’s a really tiring day, indeed. It’s not only the works who wringing out his energy, but also his accidental meeting with Jiwon. Junhoe wants to cry under the rain, glad that he’s not bringing an umbrella, hoping he’ll catch a fever, or the flu, or any of these cold diseases so he could be totally miserable.

 

But as soon as he walks out of the cafe, the rain stops. Junhoe doesn’t even have the energy to raise his middle finger to the sky.

 

He eventually made it to his apartment, quickly throwing his exhausted body to the bed. His mind won’t stop playing all the scenes from today, and he quietly sobs. He’s brimming over all these unspoken emotions he’s been holding on for so long. Junhoe had forgotten how it feels to cry over Jiwon, had stopped doing it months ago, but now when the sensation hits him again, it feels both terrible and weirdly comforting.

 

He said he won’t eat in midnight, but here he is, engulfing his  _damn so tasty_  cake with tears streaming down ceaselessly.

 

When he’s done eating, his cogitation about Jiwon is happening again. Junhoe was a timid guy when he entered college, but his decision to join the sports club helped him to be more friendly. And he met Jiwon there, the tosser, captain of the club, who taught him to be a wing spiker. They matched like a couple made in heaven. Jiwon’s toss and Junhoe’s spike were lethal. The smile Jiwon has on his face every time Junhoe received his ball perfectly was something he engraved to all fibers of his being.

 

Jiwon asked him out a few months later. It was so awkward, the dates, the relationship, but they were so happy.

 

When Jiwon graduated, things turned rough, the frequency of their meeting significantly reduced, they talked less and got easily indignant upon small friction testing their relationship. Jiwon left to America and Junhoe got a job in marketing team of a pretty well-known company.

 

Junhoe stubbornly claimed their long distance relationship would last, but Jiwon didn’t give the same effort, started to pay little to no attention, leaving Junhoe alone with his delusion of getting back together in the end.

 

The sobs getting louder as the night getting late until the universe takes pity and put him to sleep, heart shattered, minds wrecked.

 

In his dream, Junhoe runs into his old self. His hands bleeding, gripping two stalks of roses on his palm. The old Junhoe smiles at him, telling him to come close.

 

He opens his palm, showing how the stalks forcefully knitted onto one another. One of them is fresh red, blooming beautifully, the stem bent down like it wants to get rid of the other, the violet, dark red rose. The thorn of the succulent one wounds the surface of his skin, but the thorn of the wilted flower embedded deep inside his hand.

 

“Tangent.” The old Junhoe whispers, but he doesn’t understand.

 

“We’re not supposed to be together.”

 

He couldn’t fathom why he cries inside the dream.

 

When he wakes up, eyes are swollen and heart shattered, he repeats it.

 

“Tangent,”

 

It dawns upon him. He’s been forcing his way for the fate that supposed to be parted forever after meeting once.

 

“ _Tangent_ ,”

 

Junhoe weeps over the sad realization, crying for hopefully the last time.

 


End file.
